


Stolen, Taken, Shot, Dead

by bpdcerberus



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Death, Drug Dealing, Graphic Descriptions of Dead Bodies, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Overdose, car crashes, illegal substances dealing, magical artifacts dealing, mild hostage situations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpdcerberus/pseuds/bpdcerberus
Summary: An ever-growing list of ways Prokopenko could have died.





	1. Stolen

“Wake up.”

Kavinsky’s eyes snapped open. His vision was blurred for a moment. He blinked away sleep, making out Jiang’s face over his. 

“K, how smashed did you get? Your pupils are still huge.” Jiang scoffed, laughing a little.

K didn’t dignify this with a response, just letting out a breath and sitting up. Proko was still on the floor next to his bed. Skov was nudging him with his foot. 

“Fucker’s fast asleep.” He said, giving up trying to rouse the boy on the floor. Kavinsky rubbed his eyes, clearing his throat of gunk before speaking. 

“I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“Same here,” Swan chimed in, leaning on the wall.

“Yeah, same. Let’s go out, I’m too lazy to fix shit.” Skov agreed, heading for the door of Joseph’s bedroom.

 

The Denny’s restaurant was busy and loud. It was 8:00 am, breakfast rush hour. The pack sat in a small booth in the corner, all of them scarfing down various breakfast foods except Kavinsky, who was leaning back in his seat, arm over his eyes.

“Its too god damn loud in here.” He grumbled, hungover and still coming down from his high from the party last night.

Skov laughed a short ‘ha’. “It ain’t loud, K, you’re just shitfaced.” Skov spoke around a mushy ball of deformed pancake. Swan made a face at him. "Gross, dude." Skov just stuck out his tongue at him.

“You gotta eat something, man, you’re skin and bones.” Jiang said, pushing his plate of waffles and bacon towards Kavinsky. The sickly sweet smell of the syrup hit K’s nose unpleasantly, turning his stomach.

“I feel way to fuckin' nauseous to eat, dude.” K sighed, pushing Jiang’s plate back towards him. Jiang looked like he was going to argue, opening his mouth then closing it. 

The restaurant bustled around the four boys, filling K’s ears and making his head pound. He sat up a bit, leaning his elbow on the table and putting his face on his hand. The bright sunlight made his head pound and his eyes ache. 

 

Jiang unlocked the door to the Kavinsky household with his copy of the key. 

Kavinsky was drifting the line of consciousness. He passed out after puking up what little breakfast he ate into the toilet of a Denny’s and was barely aware of what was going on around him. Skov and Swan had K’s arms over their shoulders, holding him up.

Swan made his way to Kavinsky’s room and walked over to Prokopenko, who was still on the floor. Jiang, at that moment, was helping a very green-looking K into the bathroom and holding him upright by the toilet while he emptied what was left in his stomach into the toilet.

Skov grimaced at the sound of retching, following Swan. He looked down at his sleeping friend, chuckling. 

“He must be smashed as hell.” After a moment, his smile dropped and an unsettling feeling placed itself between his ribs. Something was off. Skov thought for a moment, gaze still on Prokopenko.

Then it clicked.

“Oh my god,” Skov breathed, eyes widening. “Oh my _shit_ , he’s not breathing!” 

Skov half-ran half-walked over to Proko, dropping onto his knees next to him. Skov turned him over. Proko’s nose had been bleeding and there were particles of cocaine in the dried blood. Prokopenko’s eyes were glossy and unfocused. Skov cursed, laying him flat and trying to recall his middle-school health class when they learned how to do CPR.

Kavinsky and Jiang were walked back into the room to see Skov pushing Proko’s chest up and down to try and revive him.

Kavinsky seemed to snap awake at the sight, eyes widening.

“Oh god.” Kavinsky’s words were barely audible. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself.

Skov paused in his movement for a moment, checking for breathing or a pulse before continuing. Swan was fumbling with his phone, trying and failing to dial 911 with shaking hands.

K stumbled back into the bathroom, gripping the sink with white knuckles. He stepped back, leaning against the wall. He felt his stomach churning as he slid down to sit on the floor, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Jiang was right behind him, watching him so he could help him to the toilet if K was going to puke again.

After a moment, K went limp, passing out again. Jiang sighed, walking back into the bedroom to check on the other two boys and see if Proko was alright.

 

The forest was familiar. He woke into the dream in the same place he always did, a small clearing with trees that stretched towards the sky and grass that felt as soft as the clouds looked.

‘ _Pills,_ ’ he thought. ‘ _Pills to bring him back._ ’ There they were. Kavinsky ran at the plastic baggie. The dream saw him and the ground lurched. K could feel the plastic in his grip and he clutched the pills to his chest.

‘ _Please, please let me take them,_ ’ He didn’t know if he was thinking it our shouting it. ‘ _Let me save him, please let me save him!_ ’

 

K woke with a gasp. He looked down at the baggie in his hand. It was full of pills that looked like little green Asprins. 

He got up, running to Prokopenko’s side and putting one in his open mouth.

“Come on, Proko, c’mon please wake up!” K’s eyes were watering, the tears threatening to spill over onto his cheeks.

Jiang had taken Swan’s phone from him, properly dialing 911. Jiang left the room, talking to the responder.

Swan was shaking, eyes wide and staring at Prokopenko. He felt sick as K looked.

“Move, move, let me. Get water, get him a glass of water or something!” K said, taking over trying to revive Prokopenko. Skov went downstairs to do as K said. 

“Go get him a wet towel to put his head,” K said in Swan’s direction. When he didn’t move, K shouted “Go!” Swan nodded turning to do so.

K stopped, looking down at Prokopenko’s eyes. He’d obviously been dead for hours on end. He wasn’t going to come back.

‘ _Pills to bring him back_.’ K thought. Everything clicked. He’d asked, the forest delivered. He put one of the green pills in his own mouth, swallowing it. 

He fell asleep immediately, thrown back into the forest. He knew it already knew he was there.

‘ _Prokopenko,_ ’ He thought. ‘ _Proko. Where is he? There._ ’ 

K ran at the figure lying in the grass in the distance. He looked dead when K got to him but K could feel his breathing as he picked up the dream boy.

 

K snapped awake, a breathing fake Prokopenko in his arms and the real, dead Proko on the floor. He laid fake Proko on the floor and rolled the real Proko under his bed, hiding him under the blanket hanging from it.

K then continued his CPR, pretending it was the same Prokopenko. The fake Proko opened his eyes, coughing and rolling onto his side.

‘ _It worked._ ’ A rush of relief and adrenaline rushed through K. It was then that Skov and Swan returned, glass of water and wet towel in their hand respectively. They both set them down and rushed to Proko’s side when they saw him moving.

They heard sirens coming from down the street, and everyone let out a breath of relief except Kavinsky, who had a corpse under his bed, and Prokopenko, who was dazed and confused and scared and didn’t I die?

The Paramedics believed K’s lie about how Proko had been choking. The dreamt Prokopenko had no trace of cocaine on him. Proko was checked over and didn’t even need to be taken to the hospital. Kavinsky was silently grateful. He wondered if dreamthings even had internal organs.

 

Joseph Kavinsky never thought he’d find himself burying a body. But alas, here he was, shoveling dirt over the corpse of his nearly lifelong best friend, Prokopenko.

K could see the glossed-over eyes of the body and felt sick.

Of course, there was a fake Prokopenko back at his house, a dreamt boy Kavinsky had snatched from his dreams.

‘ _Stolen_ ’, Kavinsky thought, feeling sick again.

‘ _Stolen._ ’


	2. Crash

Joseph knew the sound of a car crash when he heard one. The only difference in this case was that he was the one driving one of the cars.

He heard the crunch of metal compacting, the windshield of the other car shattering, the sputter of the engine, the squeal of the tires and worst of all he could hear the sick sound of bone snapping. He wasn't sure if it was his or someone else's. He was too drunk and chock-full of adrenaline to feel pain. When the car screeched to a stop just short of the guardrail, Joseph heaved a breath, whole body shaking. His care was totaled, but he could dream another. He was fine, Proko was-

Joseph looked to the passenger seat. His stomach leapt and sank and churned like an ocean threatening to crawl up his throat and out his mouth.

It was not his own bone shattering. It was Prokopenko's skull. His forehead was broken and bleeding, the blood running down his skin and drip-dropping onto the floor of the Evo. 

Joseph inhaled again, holding his breath for a moment before letting it out slow.

His friend was dead, but he could dream another.


	4. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kavinsky deals in the magic artifacts business...

"One pill." 

"One pill?"

"One pill. You want more, you gotta fuckin' pay more," Kavinsky sneered at the phone, being sure to amp the menace in his voice. "That's how this business works, man."

"Mr. Kavin-" "Don't you god-damn dare call me that."

Silence fell over the phone call. It persisted for a moment before Kavinsky snarled, "One pill for the price you named, you want more you pay more." He clicked 'end' on his phone, sighing. _'I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my father. I am not my father.'_ Joseph repeated to himself over and over, heart pounding.

 

 

"Hey, K, someone's here for you!" Prokopenko hollered from downstairs. Kavinsky blinked. The buyer wasn't supposed to come till next week. He hadn't even even told them his address. 

His heart pounded. "Okay, be there in a second!" 

K picked up his revolver from his drawer, tucking it into the belt of his pants in a way that wasn't visible to other people. He also retrieved the tiny baggie from under his bed, putting it in his pocket.

Joseph half-walked half-ran down the stairs, skidding to a halt at the bottom. "Where?" He asked, looking towards the door. "Did you let them in o-" As his gaze flicked towards the living room, he saw a tall man with a gun to Prokopenko's head and duct tape over his mouth.

"You fucking let him go." Kavinsky snarled. 

"Drop your weapons. Get me the pill." THe man's voice was deep and booming. 

K scoffed. "Whoever you work for hasn't fuckin paid me."

"Give it to me." This man's voice was nothing like the man he talked to on the phone last week. The man in his livingroom was loud but reserved, phone man was illogical but quiet. He found it hard to believe this man worked for phone man.

Kavinsky narrowed his eyes. 

"You want to end up like Niall Lynch? Give it to me." 

Suddenly, it clicked. This was the hit-man that murdered Ronan's dad. It must be. K felt a tug in his chest. If this guy wasn't holding Prokopenko at gunpoint, he would have shot him.

"You work for Greenmantle, don't you?" Kavinsky scoffed. "Fucker's trying to get my shit for free. Well god damn." 

The livingroom man didn't say anything.

"You can tell that piece of shit and his whore wife that I only take money, not threats." Kavinsky snarled.

The man holding Prokopenko just hummed low. "Seems I might have to pay in bodies, then."

"Wh-" _BANG _.__

__What was left of Prokopenko fell to the floor, a hole through his temple. His blood was splattered all over the floor and was beginning to pool under his head. K stared in shocked silence. His legs buckled, sending him to his knees._ _

__"Give it to me."_ _

__Joseph defeatedly took the baggie from his pocket, half-heartedly tossing it towards the man. He picked it up and tucked it in his pocket._ _

___"Get out."_ Kavinsky said lowly. The livingroom man didn't move for a moment. "I SAID GET OUT!" K drew his gun as he shouted, clicking off the safety and firing off 5 rounds all in one swift movement. All missed but one, which lodged itself in the mans arm. The man staggered back agianst the wall, clutching his arm. The man looked up to see a sobbing Kavinsky pointing his last round towards his head.  
  
"Get. Out." 


End file.
